-/-

Wanna have some fun, Ra-

Stop it.

Wanna have some fun, Ra-

Stop.

Wanna have-

Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it.

Wanna-

"STOP!"

A frustrated cry ripples from my raw throat; it rings in my ears from the echo of the tile walls and I'm reminded of the last time I used that word today. This irritates me. But everything is irritating me right now. Like, god, when did my shower head ever get so loud? The hum is overwhelming and so loud it's almost as if it's screaming, screaming like me. Am I still screaming? Have I stopped screaming since I've gotten home? I can't tell. My mind is on other things.

I clench a pink loofah in my fist and scrub like mad. I scrub every inch of my used skin and it hurts like hell, but that doesn't stop me. I scrub until the bruises that litter my body threaten to burst and everything that wasn't already sore now is and my knuckles are white from a loss of circulation. And then I scrub some more. Because no matter how much I try to scrub away his hot breath on my neck, the places his fingers have been, the overall feeling of his filth-

It remains.

I'm so, so afraid that it always will.

Before I know it, a wave of pure sorrow is smothering me and I can't do anything but collapse to the ground in defeat and exhaustion. There isn't an area of my body that doesn't hurt, but none else compares to the throbbing, stinging, shredded mess that was once my lower region. Upon contact with the tile floor, I see blinding white flashes and howl in pain.

I bring my knees up to my chest and bury my head against them. I'm crying again- god, I sound hideous when I cry. When I'm acting, of course I have my delicate, theatrical weep, but right now I sound more like a hiccuping goat. Through my legs I watch a crimson stream of blood- my blood, trail its way to the drain, staining the floor. Does everything I touch become filthy now? Frothy red bubbles foam against the stainless steel when the hot water hits it. I have never felt more like a used and discarded tissue in my entire life.

I am such an idiot!

How could I let that happen to me? I should've ran when I had the bad feeling, god, how could I let that happen? No wonder he did that to me, I'm so stupid! This is my fault, I'm no better than a hooker!

My teeth dig into one of my bruised knees as I choke on my sobs. I just wanted him to love me, I just wanted to be loved!

This fleeting thought is immediately dismissed and I chuckle ruefully. It sounds like something a younger Rachel Berry would've said last week, yesterday, hell, probably even a couple hours ago. A naive little girl who was so uneducated, so clueless when it came to men and love.

"That was not love, Rachel," I whisper.

-/-

-EARLIER THAT DAY-

It's no secret that Mr. Schuester doesn't return my feelings.

I know this now. And to think I've been spending this entire week making a complete fool of myself, mooning over him like a desperate whore. After realizing my love for him during our riveting duet, I had figured that if I...presented myself like how I've been doing, then he would come to realize his own. After that? I never thought about it. Now I know that a relationship between us would be extremely difficult, if not illegal. And even if it wasn't, he's married with a baby on the way. Once I become a star, I do not intend on people labeling me as a home-wrecker.

Now I just have to figure out how to get rid of these useless feelings. How stupid I was to think he would ever possibly want me in the first place.

I sit up straightly in a choir room chair, flowers in my lap and the song 'Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word' running through my mind, ready to be sung. Is my apology a bit over the top? Probably. But an apology from Rachel Berry is a rare occasion. And I know how much he loves Elton John.

I've been sitting here in the choir room for awhile now. I know he always comes back here after school because he keeps his things in his office, but I'm starting to feel a bit unsure of myself. The clock on the wall reads 3:42, maybe he isn't. I think I'll just stick it out until f-

The door clicks open.

Finally! I wonder what took him so long? He shuts the door behind him slowly; why do I sense something off? And he doesn't seem to notice me here either.

"Mr. Schue?" I call, getting his attention. He turns around at the sound of my voice and looks at me vacantly. I hear myself gasp. His eyes are bloodshot and he holds what looks like a metal flask. Oh god! Mr. Schuester is drunk!

"Mr. Schue, have you been...drinking?" I ask bewilderedly. He stares at me, expressionless for a moment, and then suddenly bursts into a raspy laugh, startling me.

"I'm thirty-four, I can drink if I want to, dumb girl," he slurs, stepping closer to me. Before I can say anything, his gaze falls onto the flowers and he grins slyly. This throws me off a bit; I've never seen him grin like that and for some reason it scares me.

"So you still like me, huh?"

My eyes widen. Mr. Schuester is standing so close to me that I can smell the whiskey on his breath. I feel my heart beat a million times a minute. "C'mere," he whispers, touching my cheek.

My intuition is kicking in and I know what he's about to do. My head feels light and my legs are trembling as they rise, and the next thing I know his lips are pressing against mine and oh my god he's kissing me he's actually kissing me! I'm breathless and my knees feel weak so I grab his collar before I can collapse, oh my god he's kissing me!

My eyes open as I recover from the initial shock. Wait a minute. This doesn't feel right, he's kissing me roughly, not tenderly, and there's no passion, it's all numb. His lips taste like sour alcohol. Now I know how it feels to kiss a drunk person, this isn't right!

He breaks away for a moment, our faces still touching, and his dark eyes bore into mine. I hear my shaky breath against his mouth as I look at them. These eyes scare me, bad. I can't help but think of a predator watching, waiting to attack its prey. I have a bad, bad feeling about this.

"Wanna have some fun, Rach?"

My heart drops into my stomach. I have to get out of here! My legs lunge forward, but he catches me by my middle and yanks me back. This is really bad!

"Help!" I scream, squirming in his arms. Is there anyone left here to hear me? Well it doesn't matter now, his sweaty hand is clamped over my mouth, and I can hardly breathe! Oh my god, what do I do?!

Mr. Schuester has one arm pinned around both of mine, and the other is digging into my shoulder where he has my mouth shut. He holds me against his body and damnit, why am I so short? because my legs kick and wriggle helplessly in the air. "Let go of me!" I try to shout against his hand, my lips smushed against my teeth.

I hear him shush me and mumble some incoherent words before he starts rocking me against his chest. Does he really think that's going to calm me down?! I try bucking against him, but I'm still stuck and now he's grazing at my neck.

"C'mon Rach, I thought you love me," he whispers, his hot breath tingly under my ear.

I can't see anymore because tears make everything look blurry. Somebody please help me! God please save me! Somebody help! Somebody help!

Suddenly I'm on the ground with a dull thud and he clumsily situates himself over me, one hand still on my mouth as the other wanders under my dress and gropes my breasts. With both of my arms pinned beneath his knees, I try to bring up my legs and kick him, but he uses the opportunity to pin those as well. He's stopped feeling me up; please God, please let him be done with me!

I hear the zipper on his pants and his intentions finally sink in.

"No! Stop!" I scream desperately beneath his hand. I feel like my eyes are going to explode, they're so wide! He pushes my dress up around my neck so that my whole body is exposed to him. "This is what you wanted," he slurs.

I try to protest this, but it's exhausting trying to talk against his hand. He leans down with a smirk. "You love me," he says. "Now prove it."

When he rips away my cotton panties, a burst of adrenaline goes off deep within my chest, and I snap my head away from his death grip with a scream that will surely ruin my vocal chords, "STOP!" It echoes loudly in the empty choir room, much to my satisfaction.

I see his eyes turn round. "Shit!" he exclaims. "Shut up!"

With one quick motion, he raises his hand and before I know what's coming, he strikes a deafening blow to the side of my head and everything's gone.

My vision dances before my eyes and I feel incredibly dizzy. How long have I been laying here? I try to prop myself up on one elbow, but the instant ripple of pain almost makes me pass out again. God, I had no idea that my body can hurt this much! It's dark in here and as my vision adjusts, I take the time to take in my surroundings, terror running through my veins.

I'm naked and cold on the choir room floor.

Mr. Schuester is nowhere to be seen.

Tears come to my eyes again. How could this happen to me?! Why was it him? Where is he? Why did he do that to me? What am I supposed to do now?

All I can think of to do is to redress my broken body and somehow find my way home. I can't stay in this room a second longer.

-/-